


inextricable

by kehlee



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Carolina Hurricanes, Friends to Lovers, Love Triangles, Love at First Sight, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, probably not porn but i guess we'll see what happens, that awkward moment when u r in love with your bf's bf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2020-06-28 15:38:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19815298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kehlee/pseuds/kehlee
Summary: Teuvo sees him for the first time out of the fogged-up window of a resort coffee house, falls in love, and doesn't see him again.Almost a year later, Sebastian brings home his boyfriend, and it's him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> big big thank you to [lulucanwrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lulucanwrite/) for being the best beta and generally just letting me talk about this fic in general
> 
> also i would be remiss not to give [caixa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caixa/) a shoutout because this pairing def worked its way into my heart bc of her fic camera ready which you should read for sure
> 
> this is a work of fiction and those named in this fic certainly should not see it, ty

He sees him for the first time out of the fogged-up window of a resort coffee house, hands gripping the warmth of a styrofoam cup like that will warm up a chill that has found its way into the marrow of his bones. He sees him on a lake, jagged and natural and frozen over for months, skate marks cut into every square inch, so much so that it almost looks like the boy is skating on snow. He turns, sending snow flying all around him, and this is when it happens: Teuvo's eyes catch the boy's, and something rips through him. The boy's mouth hangs open slightly, looking up at Teuvo through the window, and Teuvo swears that it's nothing. Until the boy stops and smiles.

He smiles, right up through the window, and Teuvo's stomach turns over in his belly. He steps closer to the window, his hand lifting up to press against the condensation and when he presses it there, lines of water run down the window beneath his palm and race towards the window pane. He clutches his coffee in the other hand like it will help him keep his balance and breathes a puff of hot air on the windowpane, which fogs up in response. 

Teuvo wipes away the blurry circle of breath with the sleeve of his sweater. His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he practically doesn't feel it. Let it go to voicemail, he thinks-but-doesn't-even-think, mesmerized by the boy standing there, stopped for him, smiling with his mouth and with his eyes, which crinkle up ever-so-slightly, and his heart speeds up even more as he waves at him. So he's definitely seen him. His heart flips upside down again.

This is exactly what he had never thought could happen before. Falling in love at first sight wasn't real, and Teuvo certainly did not believe in it before, but now, in this moment, he writes it on his heart that he loves this stranger with blond hair sticking out from underneath his hat wearing a Red Wings jacket, standing straight up and looking up at him, and he honestly believes that now, in this moment, the stranger loves him back.

He should go out there, run outside and across the ice, not worrying about slipping, grab the boy and spin him around because for a moment he swears that this person looking at him is the person he's been looking for his whole entire life, he's sure of it in his body and in his bones, and he almost laughs but is frozen there, stopped. The boy must be thinking the same thing, must be thinking of stumbling through snow and up the wooden steps of the lodge on his skates and rushing in to tell him his name, because he waved at him, he smiled at him. But this isn't a romantic comedy, this isn't a movie, and before he can do anything, somebody is calling his name from across the room and Teuvo is turning around to greet his parents.

They smile familiar smiles at him as he turns on his heel to walk towards them, ready to explain that he needs to run outside for a second, but not before turning around one last time to catch the boy's smile one last time and-- he's gone.

The pond is empty, there are fresh footprints in the snow, and Teuvo's parents are asking for him.

\--

"Set the stuff on the counter and I'll help you put it away," Sebastian calls from their living room. His feet are kicked up on the armrest of the couch, crossed at the ankles, and the plasticky sounds of joystick hitting controller and buttons smashing surround his aura. Sebastian is likely minutes away from helping Teuvo unload anything, he knows, and doesn't particularly care, because he throws himself on the couch beside Sebastian, eyes trained on the screen.

"It's fine, none of it is refrigerated anyways," he says as he lands, and Sebastian smashes the controller to pause it, sitting upright and moving over to lean against the armrest in a way that seems almost too casual, and looks over at Teuvo. 

"Shocking, you don't feel like putting anything away," he pokes quietly after a second. "Did you pick up dinner, at least?"

"Chipotle," is Teuvo's cool response, and he follows it up before Sebastian has a chance to open his mouth, "And the guy didn't end up being him. I was wrong."

Sebastian's mouth juts into a frown and he hits play again, fingers moving mindlessly. "You never even try to find him."

"I do try--"

"You haven't tried at all, since we got back, except for thinking you saw him at Chipotle, and that's obviously a dead end," Sebastian says, almost with an edge of annoyance. "You can't tell me that you've met your soulmate and expect me to just sit here and listen to you go on and on without you trying to find him."

"What am I supposed to do?" he asks, almost exasperated, standing to fetch his dinner. He wants to be out of the room when Sebastian gets in a mood like this, and if he knew better, he wouldn't even respond. "I saw him once, not even in America, so I have no idea what makes you think that I could even find him. Seven billion--"

"People in the world," Sebastian cuts him off. "I know. But you said he was wearing a Red Wings jacket, and I thought you'd at least spend some time wandering around Detroit when we were there, and nothing."

"Nothing," Teuvo echoes, staring straight ahead at the television as he grabs the foil-covered bowl to eat. "I don't know. Anybody could wear a Red Wings jacket. Or maybe I remember wrong."

"Or maybe you're a pussy," is the responding quip, and Teuvo has nothing to say, so he shovels a forkful of tex-mex in his mouth and turns away. 

\--

It wasn't always this way, and Sebastian's temper hadn't always been so short. There had been nights before, laying on the couch together, watching movies or playing video games until the sun came up, like they were both fifteen years old again and living with their parents and no responsibilities. Teuvo's not sure when it changed, when Sebastian stopped asking Teuvo when he would be home every day or when he stopped bringing home little surprises for him. 

They'd sit on the couch and turn on the television, watch golf or something, and after a while of musing on what to do for dinner Sebastian would lean against his side and Teuvo would curl his arm around his shoulder and they'd sit there like that, silently, until somebody finally reached for their phone to call for Chinese. 

It was never anything more than warmth, nothing more than a close friendship Teuvo was happy to experience miles away from home in the United States. He knew it was harder for Sebastian-- he was three years younger, three years less grown up and three years sadder about not being home during holidays and on birthdays. Both of them had grown up in hockey families, expecting the separation for travel and for training, but nothing compared to the combination of excitement upon being drafted to play in the NHL, and the sinking feeling that meant you were an adult now and it was time to leave your family. He'd be lying if he said it didn't still make him sad, but he knew that for Sebastian, it was fresher. Even a few years into playing in America, they both still felt it sometimes, still talked about it sometimes.

And Raleigh was different than Finland, with a different winter that left them both longing in a strange way to be home again, even when they were up north for an away game. Maybe that was what made it so idyllic to him, to meet the skating boy in Finland and watching him skate across the pond with a hat tugged over his ears, nose pink and eyes sparkling from the chill of the biting air. 

But they had been best friends before skating boy, and now Sebastian was further from him than he was used to. Gone were the trips late at night to share a milkshake from Cookout, gone were the days of waking up in the bed across a thin stretch of hotel hallway to see a shirtless Sebastian in the other bed, one leg kicked out from under the cover. Regardless of what felt like physical distance from each other, Sebastian had become hell-bent on helping Teuvo find the boy with blond hair who he'd met away on a trip, and had done everything shy of putting out a mass call to every single person who had ever visited the resort. 

Despite everything, he would always love Sebastian first. He was his first friend on the team. They were inseparable for a while--really, they did everything together--and wherever Teuvo went, Sebastian was close behind. They dressed as Buzz and Woody for the team's Halloween party, with Teuvo decked out in a space suit and Sebastian done up in cowboy gear, each of them with "ANDY" taped onto their shoes. Sebastian had seen him through bouts of dating with boys and girls who had broken his heart, and he'd talked Sebastian through his early NHL days, trying to help him navigate the newfound excitement and balance his job with his life. They were best friends. It was always Sebastian and Teuvo, Teuvo and Sebastian, and that's the way it was. 

Whether it's stress or something deeper than that causing Sebastian's angst, Teuvo isn't sure. He just wants his friend back.

\--

They're down in a game and Brind'Amour has got them skating on the same line, trying their best to push down the ice again. They'd had a bang-up first period--Sebastian scored and the way he threw his arms around Teuvo just about made him fall down with joy--but by the third they're down, and Sebastian's got this grit in his eyes that fires Teuvo up. Willy is calling from the bench every time someone skates by, and Teuvo leans forward on the bench trying to fire himself up when they call for a line change. Both him and Sebastian hop over the wall and are skates down, drilling ahead, and by some stroke of luck Teuvo's managed to snatch the puck from an unsuspecting defenseman and milliseconds after he passes to Sebastian, he hears somebody slam against the wall and even though he knows better than to look and knows to keep on playing the game he knows how to play, he can't help but whirl around in time to see Sebastian crumple. 

The puck keeps moving, though, the other team is moving ahead, and without even thinking he's flying at the son-of-a-bitch and-- the whistle blows, he stops himself hard, and Sebastian is still laying there, holding his hand to his head.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Teuvo is there in a second, standing over his friend and watching as the referees hover over him as well, urging him to get up, asking if he needs anybody and he thinks he hears a "no" come from Sebastian. Teuvo pushes past them, offers an arm, and Sebastian stands slowly.

They lock eyes. 

It's weird, because for a second, the air around them feels almost warm, and every moment of weirdness between them melts right away. It's the first time in weeks that things have felt right.

"Are you okay?" Teuvo asks. 

"I'm fine," Sebastian replies, breathless, "I just needed to sit for a second, but I'm fine, really."

Later that night, Sebastian is laying in bed in a hotel room with a heating pad wrapped around his neck when Teuvo opens the door and slinks in. 

He probably doesn't want to talk, Teuvo figures, but his feet lead him to the edge of Sebastian's bed and he plops himself down. His soft gaze is a blanket over Sebastian, who is curled up comfortably with a hoodie over his ears and fuzzy socks on his feet, sitting on top of the blanket like he's not quite ready to sleep. 

"Are you okay?" His question this time is softer, not as frantic as it had been earlier that evening, and any edge either of them had seems to fade away in Teuvo's tone of voice. 

"Fine," he murmurs, and motions for Teuvo to come and sit next to him, patting the bed. 

He obliges, leaning back against the soft hotel pillows, laying and turning on his side to face Sebastian. 

"Some hit, though," Sebastian says, in a trance, like his mind is somewhere else. He only turns his head over to look at Teuvo beside him, thinning his lips. "Just made me tired, I guess."

"It's okay if you're... tired," Teuvo trails off, because Sebastian has rolled over and laid down as well, looking at Teuvo with his big brown eyes. 

Something flutters, and it's not platonic, it's definitely not platonic. Sebastian's hand rests in front of him, in between them on the bed, and without thinking Teuvo lays it over his. He keeps his eyes there because he knows if he looks up at him... 

"Thanks for coming to help me," says Sebastian, and he can feel his eyes on him. It makes his skin prickle. 

Teuvo almost can't say anything, and then he makes the mistake and looks up. 

He can't do anything because then their lips have no barrier between them, and he's kissing Sebastian. It's gentle, soft, and feels like a thousand butterflies flying away. They're kissing and Teuvo's melting, their lips pressing more against each other now, their heads tilting, things getting deeper. There are hands all over his body, now, running up and down his side from his shoulders past his waist and down his leg. Teuvo's got shorts on, and Sebastian pulls on the side of them a bit as he reaches past his hips, pulls them up and twirls a finger across the skin of his thigh. 

Teuvo wants to fucking die right there as he kisses him harder and more, his own hand moving from Sebastian's cheek to his shoulder. Both of them pull each other closer, and the space between them is lessened as their chests press against each other. He imagines pulling off his hat, running his fingers through his blond hair, and tugging the jacket off over his head. 

Something warm falls on Teuvo's neck and he realizes it's the heating pad-- Sebastian's heating pad, and fuck, a wash of guilt rushes through him because he's just imagined kissing the skating boy instead of his roommate, and he's kissing his roommate, and fuck. 

They pull back for the first time and Sebastian's face is flushed red. He reaches for the heating pad, apologizing under his breath, moving it away. 

Shove it down. Teuvo swears off the thoughts of skating boy because he is genuinely happy to be here, and he thinks: this is probably the only time he'll ever kiss him like this, Sebastian, or the skating boy, honestly, because he knows for sure that tomorrow morning they'll wake up and this will never have happened. 

Teuvo swallows his shame and kisses Sebastian again.

\--

He's right. 

It never happened. Teuvo makes sure to slink out before Sebastian can wake up, because he knows that neither of them wants to talk about it or acknowledge it. The sooner he is far away from whatever that was, the better. 

He doesn't want to mess things up any more than things have already gotten messed up.

\--

They spend their next free day flopped across the couch, Teuvo's feet resting on Sebastian's legs. He's comfortable with them like this, feeling like it used to with nothing gnawing at either of them anymore. They've managed to shove that evening down pretty deep, he figures, because Teuvo is able to get close to Sebastian again without him feeling the need to scoot away from him. He's happy to be like this, sharing dopey, easy touches with Sebastian, the sounds of Fortnite in the background almost a lullaby to them. 

He's the one playing this afternoon, and Sebastian is sitting on his phone, occasionally smiling but generally completely unable to remove himself from the device. Outside the sky threatens cold rain, and Teuvo is happy not to have to worry about anything except playing games.

"You've been on your phone all day," Teuvo says plainly, not bothered to look away from his game at all. 

"I downloaded Tinder," Sebastian replies, and Teuvo feels himself frown involuntarily, prompting Sebastian to expound, "I thought maybe I could find your future husband on here."

"My future-- the boy from the pond? Seriously? You're on Tinder to help find him?" 

"Yeah--" he says, but as soon as Teuvo shoots a look over at him, he laughs and says, laughing, "no. I'm not."

Teuvo's character is shot from behind. He comes in third. He puts the controller down and goes to peek over at Sebastian's phone, who pulls it even closer to himself. "Back off!"

"Why? Are you cheating on me with your new Tinder girlfriend?" he jokes, but the second it comes out, it doesn't sound like a joke at all, and he swallows. Sebastian lowers his phone a little, looking over at Teuvo, both of them suddenly silent.

He's worried that Sebastian will break the spell and they'll talk about it, and Teuvo would rather peel his own skin off than talk about it. He sits there for too long, hoping that Sebastian won't bring it up, asking with his eyes for him not to. Sebastian breathes in for a second, ready to speak.

And then stops. And looks back down at his phone. "His name is Andrei," he says. "We've been talking for a little while."

"Huh," he responds, and suddenly isn't curious anymore. "Well, good for you."

"Yeah," Sebastian breathes and again, Teuvo worries that he's going to bring it up. "Teukka, I--"

"Please, don't." His response is curt and he's afraid of what is about to come out of his mouth next. He doesn't want to hear any of it, doesn't want to go anywhere near what happened in a hotel room two weeks ago. And he certainly doesn't care to hear about Andrei, who he has been talking with for a little while, because that makes the fact that everything unfurled like it did even fucking worse. 

"I wasn't even going to--" Sebastian stops himself, and then lets out a sigh. "At least you have the boy from the skating rink, seriously." He stands up now, but bends down, leans over the couch where Teuvo is sat, and kisses his forehead. "I'm still going to help you find him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok ok ok so i am writing chapter fic again and we will see how long i can keep this up because historically i am really really bad about updating chapter fic. i really like this story though so i think it'll be better this time asfhgkdgh hang in there y'all
> 
> also this is definitely based off of the book one day in december by josie silver lol
> 
> i'm on tumblr at [svechlly](https://svechlly.tumblr.com)


	2. Chapter 2

It feels like their friendship could be separated into two parts: before the kiss, and after the kiss. 

Or maybe it feels more like before Andrei, and after Andrei, because Sebastian has blossomed back into a full-time best friend again, like he used to, smiling and laughing. It makes his heart melt into his stomach to see his best friend smiling a sickeningly sweet smile over the blue glow of his phone when it’s late at night and they’ve got re-runs of sitcoms on and all the lights turned off. 

Teuvo knows that the dance they’ve done around that kiss for the last few months has almost single-handedly prevented their friendship from spiraling into a dumpster fire, and he was silently thankful for the fact that Sebastian still hasn’t brought it up. 

He’d be lying if he said that there wasn’t something still gnawing at him in the pit of his stomach, reminding him that yes, he was a horrible person for doing that to Sebastian. Even worse, he feels like he’s cheated on skating boy, who he’s not positive exists anywhere except for his mind.

Despite everything he has done in his almost non-existent free time to find the skating boy, there’s nothing. He searches the entire Red Wings’ roster, down to their fucking ECHL affiliates, and he comes up with a big fat nothing. It makes him feel even worse than when he started. 

He hears Sebastian’s voice, telling him he isn’t really trying that hard, and he knows that if Sebastian wanted to call him out on that, he’d be completely right. What if actually meeting him takes the mystery away? Or what if he wasn’t how he remembered? More likely, what if he didn’t even exist in the first place? 

Oh, and their hockey season ends in April. Again. Unsurprisingly.

At the very least, this gives him and Sebastian ample time to tackle making their apartments acceptable to the world before both of them share empty promises of hanging out lots during the summer before packing up and heading home. 

Teuvo comes the closest to cleaning that he has since September when he drags a wet rag across the countertop while Sebastian hovers over him, shaking his head.

“You’re doing this wrong,” Sebastian says.

“How can you wipe down a countertop wrong?” 

“First of all, you’re just knocking all of the crumbs on the floor,” Sebastian quips, grabbing the rag from him and bending down to dab Teuvo’s mess from the floor. “But you’re just so slow at cleaning, I can’t bear to watch it." 

“Are you practicing for Andrei?” Teuvo asks, waggling a brow at him. 

“Oh, come on,” Sebastian responds, with an eye roll so choreographed that it is saturated with embarrassment.

Teuvo laughs now, jabbing at Sebastian’s belly as he leans over the counter. “You are such a cute little housewife, you’ll make Andrei so happy!”

Sebastian responds by batting Teuvo’s hands away from him, breathing out a fake-annoyed puff of air. 

“My cute little housewife,” Teuvo teases, grinning from ear to ear.

“Stop, bro, I’m not a housewife!” 

“Say whatever you want, but when you come around talking about how perfect Andrei is, how you want to marry Andrei, how he’s perfect for you and he understands you completely, and how—” 

“Stop!” Sebastian says with a playful smile bleeding through his words, and shoves Teuvo away. Teuvo catches pink dusting Sebastian’s cheeks, and considers teasing him further for a second, and then drops it, turning to lean his back against the counter while Sebastian keeps working. 

“Oh, Fishy, what are we going to do with you?” Teuvo muses softly, shaking his head. 

\--

Hours later, they--they being mostly Sebastian with a dash of Teuvo, which Teuvo tries to justify with the fact that this _is_ technically Sebastian’s apartment, not his--have got the place looking quasi-respectable, or at least decent enough for Sebastian to flop down on the couch and start yakking about wanting to invite some of their teammates and Andrei over before the off season really begins and everybody returns to their hometown. 

“But I thought Andrei lived in, like, Toronto or something,” Teuvo half-asks, bracing himself to be unsurprised by Sebastian’s wishful thinking.

“No, he does,” Sebastian says, “But he’s coming here. To visit.”

“To visit you?”

“Don’t say that like it’s such a shocking thing,” Sebastian says. “We’ve been talking for a few months, and we really like each other.” 

“Yeah, I can tell,” Teuvo replies. “But you’ve only met a couple of times?”

“Yeah, a couple times.” After a pause, Sebastian blurts out, “He’s projected to be, like, one of the top draft picks this year. He’s really good.”

“Shit, Sepe, and you’re only mentioning this now?” Teuvo asks incredulously. 

He shakes his head. “No, I mentioned before that he played for Barrie, but you never listened to me.”

“I listened! I just assumed he was… you know, an average guy.” 

“Like me?” asks Sebastian, making a face at him.

Teuvo laughs. “There is nothing average about being a second-round pick, Fishy. Even if you aren’t as good as me.”

“Why do you even care what round I got picked?” Sebastian shakes his head. “You’re obsessed with me.”

Teuvo is laughs, his head tipped back a little, resting against the back of the couch, and it feels for a second like they might have gone back in time. It feels like before, when they didn’t just share keys to each other’s apartments, and instead just lived in one together and were really and truly roommates, rather than their halfway coming-and-going as they please. It feels for a minute like Sebastian might readjust in his spot until the two of them are leaning up against each other, staring forward mindlessly and just laughing. He looks at Teuvo with a soft face and Teuvo feels his heart flutter, and then falter. 

He would’ve expected Sebastian to lean his head on his shoulder six months ago, but it’s changed. He fucked that one up, he thinks, and a pang of regret hits him. It’s strong enough to make Teuvo open his mouth, ready to say something about that night, and then close it again. 

“What?” asks Sebastian, grin still spread across his face, lighting up his eyes, ready to keep the joke going. “You don’t have a good enough comeback?”

But the solemn sincerity of Teuvo’s now-softened gaze seems to soften Sebastian’s smile, too. “Really, what is it?” Sebastian asks. 

“It’s nothing,” is all Teuvo can muster, deciding that it’s time to stand up, now, before he either says something stupid. Or worse, does something stupid. 

There’s a moment of silence between them, heavy and thick. Teuvo stands behind the couch now, only able to see a peek of brown hair that is the top of Sebastian’s head. Both of them stare straight ahead, saying nothing. This is how it is now, wobbly and weird. Teuvo reminds himself that it was weird before that night, but this offers little comfort. It was weird since the day he saw the skating boy, he realizes. Something changed then, between them. It had always been about the two of them until Teuvo saw the boy out the window, and then Sebastian met Andrei, and it became unmistakably different. 

Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be. Things change. People grow apart. He just never thought it would happen to them. 

Sebastian finally breaks the silence. “Andrei is here,” he breathes excitedly, his voice the flicker of a candle flame in the dark. 

Teuvo thinks very little as Sebastian stands up and says he is going out to meet him. His head is swimming, and he’s trying to ground himself enough to be cordial to Sebastian’s boyfriend, or whatever. 

He hears the door swing close, and suddenly Teuvo feels wrong about being in what is technically Sebastian’s apartment. Despite the fact that they call each other’s places “their apartments”, this is Sebastian’s space, and for all Teuvo knows, Sebastian and Andrei will want their space. 

This thought stings a little, but he shoves it down, hard, and slips out of the apartment, leaving the door unlocked behind him, and shooting a “sorry got tired went home” text to Sebastian, and then he sees _him_.

His arm is wrapped around Sebastian’s waist. Sebastian is leaning against the wall of the hallway. His other arm is next to Sebastian’s head, supporting his own weight on the wall, pressing into Sebastian as he kisses him, hard, in a way that makes Teuvo embarrassed to have seen. But he’s unable to look away because it’s _him_. It’s him. 

Teuvo hears Sebastian’s tiny groan, and the boy pulls back, looking ravenously into Sebastian’s eyes at the same moment Sebastian meets Teuvo’s eyes. Sebastian flushes, pushing the boy away, wiping his wet mouth as he says, “Teukka, this is Andrei,” and all Teuvo can manage in return is the world’s smallest, choking-est, “yeah,” as Andrei meets his eyes and Teuvo feels like he is about to fucking throw up. 

The boy from the resort, the skating boy, he’s standing right in front of him and looking at him and Teuvo can’t deal because he’d imagined meeting him a thousand times, at a random frozen pond in Finland or in the streets of Detroit or through the glass at some hockey game. He’d imagined literally running into him, like a meet cute in a movie, dropping things all over the ground, stumbling to pick them up, hands brushing and eyes meeting. He’d seen them meeting at a coffee shop or at a restaurant or even after a game. But the thing that Teuvo had never considered in any of his fantasies was that the boy wouldn’t be single. Or that the boy would be making out with his best friend.

“Teukka?” Andrei says, voice warm and deep and accented. 

“It’s Teuvo,” he corrects, his voice is weak and faltering.

“Teuvo,” Andrei says, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Teuvo can’t handle it when Andrei extends his hand for a handshake. He can’t touch Andrei because that will make this real, and he can’t touch him because what if he feels something, something that he can’t say for the sake of Sebastian, who stands beside Andrei, wide-eyed and curious. 

He barely manages to touch his hand to Andrei’s before his head is spinning and swirling. Does Andrei feel it, too? Does he remember him? Is he going to say anything? God, he hopes he doesn’t say anything, because he isn’t going to say anything either, not when things between him and Sebastian are already so fucking weird, not when Andrei somehow shows no sign of even recognizing Teuvo. He gives Andrei the world’s limpest handshake.

Despite having been caught in the act with his boyfriend, Andrei isn’t embarassed. He is smiling softly, not seeming to notice Teuvo's internal meltdown. “Sebastian has told me so much about you.”

Teuvo is seriously not sure what that means, so he shoots a glance at Sebastian, who is also smiling in a plain, best-friend way that tells Teuvo that Andrei doesn’t know about the kiss. Okay. He can deal with that. 

“Only good things, I’m sure.” Teuvo throws in a bit of his typical humor, trying as hard as he possibly can to get it together, for himself and for Sebastian. 

“Yes, good things,” Andrei says, and he laughs. It’s a laugh that drives a knife through Teuvo’s chest so hard that he feels it come out the other side of his body. 

Sebastian’s eyes expectantly find Teuvo, silently wanting his approval, and Teuvo musters a half-grin to assuage Sebastian’s anxious energy. In response, Sebastian laces his fingers with Andrei’s, his facial expression calm and warm.

“I’m going,” Teuvo says, awkwardly. His words come out choppy, so he waves a hand, continuing. “I mean,” he stumbles, “I’m going to bed, I’m tired, you guys have fun.”

“No, Teukka, I wanted you to come hang out with us,” Sebastian whines, wrapping his arm around Andrei’s, leaning his head on the shoulder of the one person who, before tonight, Teuvo wanted to find again more than anything. Now, watching the two people who mean the most to him relax into each other, he is overwhelmed with the urge to lock himself in his room and never come out again.

“Sorry,” Teuvo says, then quickly pushes past the both of them before they have an opportunity to say anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowie i actually did it !! i rewrote this chapter so many times fbgfdhg. but i am really happy with how this turned out and excited to keep going. sweet babs
> 
> again tyvm tyvm to [lulucanwrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lulucanwrite/) as always for being the best beta and just human being in general


	3. Chapter 3

When the light filtering in through his blinds finally wakes him up, Teuvo is hit with a wave of shame. It crashes down on him, cold and hard, throws him under, and he is kicking underneath the current of emotion tumbling atop him. He knows that fighting back will only make this worse, so he rides it.

First, he feels horrible because he’s indirectly lied to Sebastian. Somewhere, right now, Sebastian is waking up with his legs tangled with Andrei’s. They are sharing breakfast, feeding each other blueberries in the kitchen while coffee is made. They are tangled together as they sway from side to side, natural light making the modern kitchen cozy and warm. The scenes play like a movie montage in Teuvo’s head, except it only makes him feel sicker, because while he imagines Sebastian leaning in to kiss Andrei over the steam of a coffee mug, he thinks about the months that him and Sebastian have spent sprawled about the living room talking about the boy Teuvo was hopelessly in love with. He pictures the hours that Sebastian spent comforting him in the glow of orange street lights, reminding him that of course the skating boy was real, and of course he would find him, and that it would be okay. He remembers Sebastian drunkenly teasing him for refusing to try and meet somebody else. All of it points to a glaring fact: he is a horrible, awful friend. 

And then there’s the fact that he’s tasted Sebastian’s lips as they’ve both sunk down into the cool plush of hotel beds. Thinking about that night and about Sebastian and Andrei messaging each other back and forth immediately before and after makes Teuvo’s chest catch on fire. It’s not like Sebastian cheated on Andrei with him, not really, but he can’t help but feel the rush of shame that slams into him when he remembers the way Sebastian’s lips felt soft against his own, and the way his skin was hot and smooth and wanting. Moments come back to him in flashes that feel like miniature electrocutions. 

It’s enough to make him throw his pillow over his head and shove it all down, burying his face in the bed as he involuntarily comes to the conclusion that he will never, ever be able to see Andrei as a friend. He will always be the boy whose breath billowed into the air across a frozen lake, smiling and waving at him, tufts of hair peeking out from under a red hat. In Andrei, Teuvo will always see a future that he had imagined so many times for himself: embracing after a victory, falling into bed together and making out all wet and sloppy, holding each other’s hands as they talk about adopting a dog or a cat or God, even a kid.

And it kills him. Each subject of guilt comes one after the other and drives him into his bed, trying to hide from the inevitability of the light of day and the fact that he can’t run from seeing Sebastian forever because they live within footsteps of each other, they play on the same team, and even if he can imagine running away from Sebastian and hiding in Helsinki all summer, he knows that come September, he will be left to face the problem again. 

But instead of listening to that part of him, he pulls out his phone and pays extra to book an earlier flight home. 

\--

The summer passes uneventfully, like a cloud rolling through the sky. Teuvo splits his time and energy between training hard and taking it easy. He plays in a couple of golf tournaments, plays some hockey for charity, and obsessively checks Sebastian’s instagram despite the fact he knows that he won’t update. 

When Sebastian texts him, it’s about meeting up or when he’s planning to come back or how his training is going, and Teuvo’s replies of “cool” and “yeah” do little more than if he flat-out ignored him. The only texts he completely ignores are the ones about Andrei. Andrei being projected to be one of the top draft picks. Talk of Andrei playing for the Canes. Screenshots of things Andrei has said to Sebastian, things that Teuvo wishes he could stop reading over and over again. 

Then, at three in the morning one night, Teuvo wakes up to his phone ringing, pulling him from sleep to announce a FaceTime call. He rolls over and squints at Sebastian’s bright contact photo before tapping on “accept”. 

“Teukka!” Sebastian is practically yelling. He’s wide awake--Teuvo can tell he hasn’t slept. Sebastian’s curtains are wide open and nighttime sunlight mixes with the lights of his bedroom, which are all switched on. Behind Sebastian’s head, a television murmurs. Teuvo takes it all in in a sleepy haze. “Andrei is going to play for the Canes, they did it, they really chose him!”

Teuvo blinks and rubs his eyes with his free hand, unable to say anything.

“I can’t even see your face. Turn some lights on, open a window, get excited with me, Teuvo, please,” Sebastian whines, before continuing, “Andrei was the second draft pick, I can’t believe it.”

“Congrats,” Teuvo says plainly. “Also, you woke me up.”

“So?!” Sebastian practically shouts. 

“So, I was sleeping, and now you’re yelling in my face.” 

“I’m not yelling in your face, I’m yelling in your FaceTime,” Sebastian replies quickly. “You should be happy, too. You’re my friend.”

“I am, Sepe,” he says. “I’m just-- I just woke up. I’m excited for you, and I’m excited for Andrei, too.” 

“You should text him,” Sebastian says, fired up and excited. Teuvo can tell from the grin that lives on Sebastian’s lips and in his eyes that this means so, so much to him. This had been Sebastian’s hope from the beginning, and Teuvo knows it’s a dream come true for Sebastian and Andrei both for so many different reasons. 

“Send me his number, I’ll text him,” Teuvo agrees. “It’s a big deal to be the second draft pick, anyways, I guess.”

“For sure.” Sebastian answers quickly and certainly. “It’s a big deal.”  
  
“And it must be a big deal for you guys, too.” 

Sebastian gets quiet, but it’s not uncomfortable. He seems to glow, soft and thankful. The worries about his and Andrei’s relationship falling apart with distance and with the panache of Andrei’s first year in the National Hockey League have long disappeared; gone was any doubt about their future. “Yeah, it is.”

Teuvo would be happy for him if he wasn’t already imagining the thousands of ways he would have to interact with Andrei for the next year: working together on the ice, hanging out off the ice at team gatherings, going to the Children’s Hospital together to make kids smile, and him being in Sebastian’s apartment. All. The. Time. He sees days fade into weeks and weeks into months as Andrei plays out a two-year contract in Raleigh, the town and Sebastian both coming to love him more and more every day. 

There is no escaping the daily heartbreak, the hours of wanting and lusting and hoping. There is nothing in the entire world that will ever make watching Sebastian slip away into Andrei’s life okay, and there is nothing that can even come close to calming the guilt that gnaws at every fibre of his being when he knows that deep down, he will always love both of them in ways he can’t explain, and that neither of them will ever know that. The helplessness swallows him whole, and there is nothing he can do, so he replies, “That’s good, man, I’m happy for you.”

\--

He actually, genuinely thinks about unfollowing the Canes’ Instagram account because they post so many photos and videos of Andrei. 

He knows how that would look, so he deletes Instagram off his phone instead. 

\--

Days pass slowly. All of his thoughts are consumed by hockey. When he works out, he thinks of hockey, and hockey makes him think of Andrei, and each rep seems longer and longer as he fights to get Andrei Svechnikov out of his head. Every run seems to last light-years. Whether he likes it or not, he’s got to be a teammate to the kid, and with nobody to confide in, his feelings shrivel up and fold into themselves until he’s completely withdrawn. 

Of all people, it’s Williams who notices it first. He’s curled up in bed one evening when his phone lights up blue, and when he sees it’s from Willy, his curiosity is piqued. He’s not one to text often, so he unlocks his phone with a swipe and reads the message.

_Hey man, you haven’t been saying much this summer. Are you good?_

He stares the message down, unsure of how to reply. Is he good? He guesses so, but knows that he’s chronically uncomfortable with the fact that he will have to see Sebastian and Andrei suck face on the regular, and he finds that he is growing increasingly melancholy about the prospect of leaving his family and his friends and the Finnish summertime to return to his real life in Raleigh. 

_yeah I’m good_

Teuvo clicks his phone off immediately, not expecting Willy’s immediate response: _Sounds like something that somebody who’s not good would say._

He’s got half a mind to shoot back a message that just says “shut up” but this isn’t Sebastian. He can’t talk to Willy like that, and he contemplates just picking up the phone and calling him to explain before he sighs and resigns himself to typing.

_It’s too hard to talk about because so much stupid things happened, and it’s really all my fault anyways. Have you talked to Sepe?_

_No?_

_Oh ok. It’s not my business to talk about._

_So what I’m hearing is I should talk to Fishy?_

_If you want. Don’t tell him I said so_

The typing bubble pops up and disappears a few times, and after watching for a second, Teuvo puts the phone down, throwing his arms over his eyes. The pressure on his face makes him aware of the tension he’s been holding in his cheeks and his jaws, and he forces himself to relax a little, trying not to let the topic of conversation carry him away. The phone vibrates beside him and he opens it again.

_Listen, I don’t know what the deal is with you and him. I know something happened, and I know you don’t want to talk about it, and I won’t make you. But it’s true that when you have crap off the ice, it comes with you on the ice too. I’m here for you as a friend, but also as a teammate, I want this to be good. I’m not saying that YOU have to be good all the time, but you two should work it out. Leaving stuff left unsaid is no bueno._

Teuvo stares at the phone. He knows it isn’t meant to, but it reads just like a lecture. 

_Ok dad_ , he shoots back, and immediately feels bad about how harsh that sounds. _OK I hear you Willy._ And then, before he has a chance to respond, he changes the subject quickly: _What do you think about the new kid?_

Willy’s response cracks him up. It’s two emojis: a fire emoji and a little smiling poop. 

Hot shit. 

_That’s for sure._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anotha one  
> i done did it, wrote the dam thing. love 2 tumblr user thecanesfinns for beta, i luv u forever, and also to ao3 user caixa just for existing  
> happy friday


	4. Chapter 4

Teuvo has the worst flight of his life coming back to the States. His first flight gets delayed, setting off a chain reaction of missed flights that results in a lot of headache and makes him really, really wish he wasn’t traveling alone. 

_ You changed your flight date? _ Sebastian had texted him, sending a string of frowning emojis--enough to almost make him feel bad. But he’s really determined to take space from Andrei and Sebastian, because he knows better than to screw things up with the both of them, which is exactly what he knows he will do if he doesn’t distance himself.

And it’s easier this way, too. The price he pays is a shit flight and the lump of loneliness in the pit of his stomach as he imagines turning to Sebastian as they float down the moving sidewalks in RDU and saying something about how completely spent he is only to remember that he’s by himself again, just like he’s chosen to be. But he doesn’t have to constantly check what he says or stop himself from staring at Andrei or worry that he’s going to tell Andrei that him and Sebastian had a weird thing, or whatever, and that makes it worth it, he thinks.

Teuvo also knows it would be weird if he didn’t tell Sebastian of his arrival--they were the sort of friends who cared to know these things, the sort of friends who, even when things were sour between them, always say goodbye and never leave on a bad note--so he shoots him a quick text that just says “Landed” and takes an Uber back home. 

He spends his time before training camp begins adjusting to the six hour time difference that being back in Raleigh demands. Teuvo does his best to stay awake as much as he can to beat the jet lag, but finds himself napping between workouts, meals, and the time he spends hanging out with his non-Sebastian-or-Andrei friends. 

But it’s a little inevitable; by his fourth day back, Jordan Staal is inviting the entire team to his house for a pool party, and he knows that he’s obligated to show his face at that, especially since it’s on a Saturday and there’s no reason he should be busy whatsoever. Meanwhile, Sebastian is relentless in reaching out, and Teuvo has gotten very good at ignoring his messages:

_ You are going to Jordo’s right _

_ I’m bored come over and play Fortnite with me _

_ Wanna get Chipotle _

_ Are you ignoring me _

_ I will order you a whole pizza to have to yourself if you let me come over _

_ I guess I will see you on Saturday then. _

\--

Teuvo manages the inevitable social interaction the way any sane man would: with lots and lots of alcohol. The first thing he does when he arrives--after hugging Heather Staal, who is literally the epitome of a perfect hostess--is grab one drink, completely down it, and grab another drink. This way, by the time he’s made it out of their house and into their backyard and inevitably has to see Sebastian and Andrei, he’s already feeling a little bit buzzy and lighter on his feet. 

It’s  _ definitely _ easier this way, because when Sebastian shoots a glance at him and then turns right back to what he’s doing instead of rushing over to greet him, Teuvo doesn’t feel the dagger of pain and frustration he expects to feel. Instead, he shrugs it off, and spends the rest of the evening pinballing between different social groups. He talks with Willy and Marty for like, an hour. He plays pool basketball with Jordo and his kids. He lays out in the sun next to Jaccob Slavin and quietly tolerates his rambling about his happy life. And he drinks. A lot. 

After the sun has set he stumbles up to Sebastian, who is alone with Andrei standing around a table, and, as if he’s forgotten everything between them, throws an arm around his shoulder. “I miss you,” he blurts out.

Sebastian handles him with grace; he lets Teuvo lean into him and sighs softly. “You’re drunk.” Teuvo thinks he sees Sebastian roll his eyes but he’s not sure, and he doesn’t care, either.

“Am not,” Teuvo answers quickly and stubbornly, waggling two finger guns at Sebastian as if that demonstrates his point. 

“Okay,” is Sebastian’s answer, frustration tickling at the edges of his words as he wraps an arm around Teuvo’s waist. “Let’s take you home, yeah?”

“No, thank you,” Teuvo says, shaking his head rapidly. The thought of going home right now and being alone is the single most miserable thought Teuvo has had in his life, and he’s sure to let Sebastian know by humming loudly in disapproval. 

Sebastian looks over his shoulder and Teuvo is pretty sure that he’s motioning for Andrei to help with him because within moments he’s got Andrei on the other side of him, arm wrapped around his waist. 

“Oh, come on,” Teuvo groans, “I’m not even that drunk. I can walk.” He shoves at both of their arms and, attempting to prove himself, starts to walk heel-to-toe in what he imagines is a straight line, but judging from Sebastian’s stifled laughter is probably an epic failure. “Okay, whatever, I just need to drink some water or something.”

“Yeah, okay, but at home,” is Sebastian’s reply as he loops his arm with Teuvo’s arm, and Andrei’s follows shortly after. The two of them lead him out of the Staals’ house and corral him gently into the back of Sebastian’s car--Andrei even leans over and buckles Teuvo in--before they hop in the front two seats and drive off.

“I can’t believe you’re making me leave,” Teuvo groans from the backseat. 

But the two of them aren’t listening; a soft, private conversation envelops the two of them in the front seat, and Teuvo can’t understand their murmured words. He overhears Sebastian’s apology and subsequent promise to ‘make this up’ to Andrei, to which Andrei asks if they can do ‘something nice, just the two of us’ and Teuvo imagines they’re probably really talking about how annoying it is to have to leave early and take him home, so he blows air out of his mouth and stares blankly ahead and waits for the drive to be over already and, somewhere in the course of the twenty minute drive, falls dead asleep. 

\--

When he wakes up, he realizes that he doesn’t even remember falling asleep. His eyelids are heavy and he feels groggy, trying to orient himself to his apartment as light from the doorway slaps him in the face. He sits up slow and tired on the couch, hearing the stumbling noises from the door, and wonders aloud, “Who’s there?”

There’s no answer, but there are two figures in the doorway. His heart races for a second before he realizes that he’s in Sebastian’s apartment, so it’s Sebastian with his arm slung around someone’s neck, legs heavy and steps sloppy enough to warrant his leaning against someone else. 

A light flicks on, and Teuvo squints, flinching to cover his face as his eyes adjust and he realizes it’s Andrei who’s holding Sebastian up. 

“Hey,” Andrei says, voice breathy and shaky with what Teuvo reads as half-laughter, half-frustration. 

It feels like not too long ago that he was being held up by the two of them. His stomach burns a little with embarrassment at the fact that Andrei has had to help not one but both of them home this evening, and he’s quick to jump up from the couch to lend a hand.

“Do you need help?” Teuvo asks-but-doesn’t-really-ask, because he’s already moving towards the two of them, grabbing Sebastian’s free arm and looping it around his own shoulder. 

Andrei sighs in relief. “He is so heavy.”

Teuvo laughs at that, and Sebastian answers with the world’s most slurred “mad gains, bro,” that causes Teuvo to laugh even harder until Andrei shoots Teuvo a look, and Teuvo stops cold, lips thinning. He isn’t sure what has happened, but he knows intrinsically and immediately that it’s more important to side with Andrei here, who will actually remember this tomorrow, rather than Sebastian, who he isn’t convinced is fully conscious anyway. 

“I’m sorry,” Teuvo says quietly as the three of them stumble towards Sebastian’s bedroom.

“Why’re you sorry?” Sebastian replies at the same time that Andrei says, “It’s fine.” He shoots a grumpy look at Sebastian, who grins right back at him.

Teuvo shakes his head a little. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen  _ him _ get like this.” 

“This is a first,” Andrei says as they arrive at the side of Sebastian’s bed. Andrei is quick to unhook his arms and slink out of the room, leaving Teuvo to force Sebastian’s out-of-control, dead-weight body into his bed. 

“But I’m not tired,” Sebastian whines. 

Teuvo grabs Sebastian’s legs, which he’s swung back over the edge to try to get up again, and places them back in the bed. “Drunk you is worse than drunk me,” Teuvo says, which prompts the beginnings of a disagreement from Sebastian that Teuvo silences with a firm “go the fuck to sleep.”

“I don’t want to, and I’m not...” says Sebastian, but his entire body betrays him; his eyes are closed and he’s already drifting off to sleep, words trailing off with his consciousness, and in a second, soft snores are leaving parted lips. 

His shoes are still on, and his hair is so sweaty that it sticks to his forehead. He smells awful, really awful, but Teuvo can’t help but look down at him and smile softly, fondly. This Sebastian is one he knows well from back in Finland, from when they were young, sloppy and handsy and warm all over. Teuvo sits down on the edge of the bed and brushes the damp hair from his face. 

“Goodnight,” he says, and Sebastian grabs the edge of his shirt in response, tugging Teuvo towards him. 

He wraps his arms around Teuvo’s torso, and mumbles something incomprehensible in Finnish and his voice has the babble of a baby, a gentle lull to it that makes whatever he is saying seem so sweet and warm.

“I wish he talked to me like that,” comes Andrei’s voice from the door. Teuvo can’t place the tone of voice; it is both serious and not at the same time. Andrei enters the room and sets a glass of water and ibuprofen on the bedside table, and Teuvo suddenly stands, pushing Sebastian’s arms away from him, not sure if he’s worried that Andrei will see him as coming onto his boyfriend or if he feels bad that he’s the one sharing that moment of intimacy and not Andrei himself.

“I’m kidding,” Andrei says, as if to reassure Teuvo that Sebastian’s display of affection is perfectly appropriate, that it’s all fine, but Teuvo still worries. He can tell by the look on Andrei’s face. It tells him the entire story of the evening--and it’s a story he, as Sebastian’s best friend, knows well. It began with promises of fun together, of hands brushing against legs at a party and dancing and yelling to songs in the car, of eyeshadow that smells like chocolate and sweaty hot skin and the taste of alcohol lingering on too-kissed lips until it takes a turn and suddenly Sebastian is too handsy, his words too slurred, his eyes droopy and tired. He laughs at things that make no sense to you, and before you know it, the whole evening has turned from something special to a babysitting event. Yeah. Teuvo knows.

And then, when he remembers earlier, the guilt cuts through him. God, to make the two of them take care of him like that? And then to see Andrei turn around and have to take care of Sebastian? It kills him. “Are you really?” he says, voice wobbling ever-so-slightly. It’s half gentle concern and half an apology. 

Andrei doesn’t need to respond. The tiredness about him says enough. 

Teuvo takes this as his cue to leave. Andrei is exhausted, and there really isn’t anything he can say to make any of this better, especially considering he is at least half responsible for Andrei’s evening being so shitty, so he just thins his lips and ducks out of the room. He gathers his things from the living room and just as he’s set his sights on walking out the door, Andrei’s soft, deep voice cuts through the silence.

“Where are you going?”

“Home,” Teuvo gestures halfheartedly at the door. Truthfully, the last thing he wants to do is go. All he wants is to curl up again on the couch and tell Andrei it’ll be okay and talk with him until they both fall asleep. He wants to soak in the raw energy of intimacy, enjoy what will probably be the only one-on-one time he ever spends with just Andrei--what reason does he have to otherwise? But the disgusting combination of having just embarrassed himself wholeheartedly just hours before coupled with the sheer force of knowing that Andrei will never look at him the same way he does suffocates him because he doesn’t remember is enough to knock the wind out of him. He isn’t sure which of the two is worse.

He’s embarrassed, but it’s not just because of the fact that an eighteen year old just took care of him and then had to turn around and take care of someone else. Mostly, it’s because he can’t look at him and not think about him like that.

Teuvo saw Andrei, cheeks pink in the winter air, his snowflake-encrusted hair shining like a crown of diamonds with sunlight sparkling through. He saw Andrei standing there and he swore that he felt it too, that he saw him, too. But the more he plays the memory back in his mind, the more convinced he is that he imagined his wave, that he was waving to somebody else, literally anything possible except for what Teuvo thought he saw. Of course. Andrei doesn’t remember that moment of breath on glass, emotion crystallizing in the cold air. He didn’t see him back. 

And, all of that aside, he’s Sebastian’s boyfriend, and the last thing Teuvo ever, ever wants to do is hurt his best friend like that. But Andrei’s face falls when Teuvo moves to go, exhaustion and frustration coming off of him in waves. He needs to go, he knows that this is no good, but the way that Andrei looks at him with disappointment and frustration cements his feet in place. 

It’s just the two of them now, and they’re standing facing each other. Teuvo’s crossed arms are a stark contrast to Andrei’s open form, and even though Teuvo is aware of this, he can’t bring himself to settle into a more comfortable position. How Andrei is capable of looking so calm is beyond him, Teuvo thinks, as he wriggles his toes in his shoes. 

“So… are you going to go to bed?” Teuvo asks after a moment of silence between the two of them.

“If I go to bed now, his snoring will keep me awake,” Andrei replies. “Besides, he wants us to get to know each other better.”

A string of what-ifs flash through Teuvo’s head. Of course they can’t know each other better, because Teuvo might literally implode having to pretend to both Sebastian and Andrei that Andrei isn’t the boy from the frozen-over-pond, the boy that Teuvo has been helplessly in love with since the moment he saw his face. All at once he is frustrated and smitten.

“I need to go,” he says again, and he rubs his temple and smooths back his hair, trying to calm himself. He knows he can’t keep up this facade, especially now that he is staring Andrei in the face, and yet the words leave his mouth, bleeding with sympathy and a desire to know Andrei. “Unless you want to talk.” 

Andrei nods silently, and Teuvo watches him, holding his breath. He takes a step closer to Teuvo, and Teuvo realizes that Andrei, too, isn’t breathing. Something suspends between them. It feels like they’ve left reality. Teuvo watches Andrei’s arm as he raises it from his side and rests it on Teuvo’s arm. Whether it is for support or for another reason, Teuvo isn’t sure--all he can feel is his heart rate kick up. His mind feels like static on a television. For a second, Teuvo thinks about reaching out, grabbing Andrei’s face and kissing him until he crumbles, but he steadies himself just in time for Andrei to drop his arm back by his side, leaving the hairs of Teuvo’s arms standing up, the memory of Andrei’s skin on his, wondering if that really happened or if he had just imagined it. 

He moves silently, and Teuvo follows him wordlessly to the couch in the living room, drunk on the last few seconds of physical touch, and sits gracelessly beside Andrei, who leans his back against the armrest and lets out a sigh. 

“Are you okay?” Teuvo finds his words, but feels stupid as soon as he’s spoken. Of course he isn’t okay. And Teuvo isn’t okay either, but this isn’t about him. He clenches his jaw, leaning forward, listening.

“I’m…” Andrei starts, but can’t finish. He sighs again, breath heavy and frustrated, and he rolls his shoulders back, shaking his head and shaking off the tension of the prior moments. “It’s stressful?”

Teuvo crinkles his brow, tilting his head slightly, silently egging him on, unable to speak.

“This. Being here, living alone, you know. Sebastian, he helps sometimes. But mostly doesn’t. And I miss my brother. He’s the only one who understands me.”

“That’s not good,” Teuvo says plainly, incapable of managing much more. “Where is your brother?” 

“In Grand Rapids,” he groans, “You know, he taught me everything about the NHL. And he doesn’t even get called up that much, it’s not fair.”

With the conversation shifting from personal topics to hockey, Teuvo relaxes, not realizing how tense he had been before. “It’s hard,” Teuvo says. “Getting sent back and forth and having to work like that, it feels like eyes are always on you.”

“I feel like eyes are always on me,” says Andrei, frowning. “Everyone is watching to see if I’m actually good.”

“Yeah,” Teuvo breathes, “It’s sort of like that.”

“Sebastian is good to me, but he doesn’t get it.” Andrei’s eyes are cast on the blanket he’s pulled over his legs, and he picks at the pilling of the fabric. “You guys both played in Finland so much before you came here and just played in the NHL. It’s different for me. I moved here and played here before. You guys don’t understand.”

“What’s different?”   
  
“I don’t know,” he says, a defensive edge cutting into his voice. “It’s different. Nobody really understands.”

“Sebastian doesn’t understand,” Teuvo says, as if to echo and clarify Andrei’s sentiment. 

He looks up and meets Teuvo’s eyes, nodding solemnly. He doesn’t speak.

Silence envelops the two of them. Andrei’s gaze fixes back on his lap, running his pointer finger back and forth over the fabric. There is something solemn and severe about him, as if something dark has crawled into him and made a home in him, and Teuvo remembers clearly the feelings of his first year alone in America. How lost he felt. How confused. The only thing that made sense was hockey, and even then, there are mistakes to be ironed out constantly. 

So he does the only thing he can think of. He spreads his arms open to hug him. “Come here,” he invites, but instead of leaning in and wrapping his arms around him, Andrei leans his back against Teuvo’s chest and rests his head in the crook of Teuvo’s collarbone, melting into the embrace. 

The two of them settle like that: Andrei’s shoulders pressed into Teuvo’s chest, Teuvo’s breath on Andrei’s hair, both of their eyes fluttering comfortably closed. Two friends on a couch in an apartment, one of their boyfriends dead asleep in the other room, blanket draped over both of their laps and the murmur of amber streetlights peering through curtains. Outside, the air is cool. Above them and beyond the clouds, the stars dot the night sky. 

It’s almost enough to make Teuvo forget about everything, about how hopelessly in love with Andrei he is, how he silently betrays Sebastian every day, how he has never felt so close and so far from two people in his entire life. It’s almost enough. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> always a huge thank u to tumblr user thecanesfinns my most favorite beta and human  
> this one was a struggle bc school is freaking hard and i am really really glad to publish again, it feels like it's been so long  
> also thank u all for all your comments, it's really hard to find motivation to write when i am in school and also working and so i really appreciate all of your comments when you leave them <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember the time i said i wasn't sure if i was going to write smut in this? me too.  
> now we have our answer, enjoy friends!!

He wakes up the next morning to his phone ringing, jolting him from sleep. Teuvo somehow shakes off the grogginess in time to see Sebastian’s name and contact photo and then accepts the call. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi,” comes a voice, but it’s not Sebastian’s-- and it takes Teuvo a second to register the voice as Andrei’s. “Did I wake you up?”

“Uhh,” Teuvo starts, a lie forming on his lips but his brain betrays him before he can even think straight, “Yep.”

Andrei laughs a soft laugh on the other end of the line that spreads joy through his chest like honey on warm toast, sticky and drippy and golden. “Sorry, didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” Teuvo answers, sheets rustling as he rolls over in bed. He checks the time on his bedside table, which reads a respectable eight o’clock, and he can’t be bothered that he’s woken him up at this time at all. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” Andrei says, and Teuvo can hear him grinning through the speaker on his phone so sweetly that it could make him sick. “Sebastian woke me up early, and he wants to go out for breakfast, are you in?”

Visions of Andrei and Sebastian flash through his head: fingers on hot skin, a bead of sweat dripping from Sebastian’s temple, Andrei pressing a kiss to the crook of Sebastian’s neck and Sebastian’s lips open in a perfect circle, a soft noise spilling from his mouth. And then Teuvo shakes it off, reminding himself that it’s not cool to fantasize about your best friend and his boyfriend, nope, no, not at all, and he shuts it down, fast. 

“Of course.” Teuvo’s reply is short and simple, and he does everything he can to be as normal as possible as he rolls over and sits up at the edge of his bed, examining himself in his mirror for a moment. He throws a baseball cap over his sleep-tousled hair and says, “I’m ready whenever.”

There is some rustling on the line before finally, Sebastian’s voice cuts through the air: “Good, we are outside your door.”

Teuvo laughs. “I had a feeling you were.”

\--

Breakfast passes relatively uneventfully, forkful after forkful of eggs and fruit and some probably-forbidden pancakes filling each of their bellies until they’ve cleared their plates. The morning seems content to slip into the afternoon slowly but gracefully, so smoothly that one might not even notice the time passing, a lightness surrounding the three of them as they finish their meals. 

When the waitress brings their bill, Teuvo is quick to slide his card to the waitress and silences Andrei and Sebastian’s moaning with a flick of his eyebrows.

“I’m older, I’m supposed to take care of you,” Teuvo says, thinning his lips and shrugging. “It’s just how it works.”

“You won’t make the rookie buy you breakfast?” Andrei says through a grin and a final mouthful of powdered-sugar-covered pancakes. “I think that’s what Sebastian would do.”   
  
“Well Sebastian is an ass,” Teuvo says matter-of-factly, to which Sebastian immediately reaches across the table and playfully smacks Teuvo’s cheek. 

“That is not true, either of you!” Sebastian whines. “Not fair, you two ganging up on me.”

Teuvo flashes a smile. “It’s just too easy.”

“Too easy,” Andrei echoes, and sets his napkin down onto the plate in front of him. As he continues to speak, Teuvo notices a stray speck of powdered sugar on the corner of Andrei’s lips, and he finds himself entranced. Andrei’s lips move as he speaks, and the spot of sugar moves gracefully with them, and Teuvo finds himself absentmindedly reaching across the table to rub the dust off with his thumb and before he can stop himself, he realizes that he’s touching Andrei’s lips because Andrei furrows his brows and says, “What are you doing?”

“Sugar,” Teuvo says, like that is supposed to make sense to either of them. He brushes his thumb across the corner of Andrei’s mouth one last time and dies a little inside when he stumbles over his reply, “You had something on your mouth.”

“I feel like most people just tell somebody when that happens,” Sebastian says, and Teuvo would worry about being weird or inappropriate, if not for the lightheartedness behind his tone of voice and the little laugh that leaves his parted lips after he speaks.

“Teuvo is not most people,” Andrei replies, running a tongue over his lower lip and then smiling perfectly, a puff of laughter escaping his nose. 

Sebastian laughs, nodding quickly in agreement. “That is for sure.”

The gentle, teasing tone of voice they both use helps keep any embarrassment at bay for Teuvo; instead, he finds himself pulled into the tide of their ease and settles comfortably in their presence, wrapping his hands around the mug of coffee sat in front of him and letting it warm his body through his hands. 

“We should see a movie,” Andrei says after a lull in the conversation, eyes sparkling. “I love the movie theater.”

Somehow, this fact about Andrei, which seems so youthful and light, doesn’t surprise Teuvo in the slightest, nor does Sebastian’s quick agreement that seeing a movie sounds “super fun” as he whips out his phone to search up movie times. 

Teuvo follows along easily, and lands himself in the theatre on the left side of a Sebastian sandwich with scenes he can’t pay attention to flickering across the screen because Andrei has leaned over and is kissing Sebastian on the cheek over and over like Teuvo isn’t even there. He stares blankly ahead, letting sounds and shapes swirl around him but all he hears are the soft sucking noises of lips on skin and it’s like torture to him, to think about Andrei’s lips like that, and isn’t it kind of fucking gross that he’s acting like this with Teuvo right next to him? He swears it’s on purpose, like it’s supposed to make him react. But it’s Teuvo. He plays it cool as ever, and just presses on, ignoring them both as best as he can. 

It’s an action movie that seems particularly plotless, right around the time the main character is set up in his obligatory moment to kiss the girl, Teuvo feels a hand brush over his knee and rest on his inner thigh. He almost thinks he’s imagining it for a second, and he turns his head quickly to look at his leg and sees Sebastian’s hand resting there. Nervous eyes dart up to look at Sebastian’s face, but he’s completely cool, staring straight ahead spare one moment when he leans over and returns a kiss on Andrei’s cheek and what. the. fuck. because while he does it, Sebastian’s fingers trace the inseam of his sweatpants and it takes everything in Teuvo’s power not to turn to Sebastian and ask what the fuck he’s doing because  _ what the fuck is he doing _ , honestly?

He’s quieted by Sebastian looking over at him with sultry brown eyes, responding to Teuvo’s open-and-ready-to-speak-mouth by raising a finger to lips that he forms into a little puckered hushing shape that  _ does something _ to Teuvo. Sebastian knows this; he’s aware of his own influence over him and trails a finger up Teuvo’s inner thigh. A smile graces his lips which Teuvo notices now are so fucking pink that he has to restrain himself from leaning over and kissing him right there and then-- and he would, too, if it weren’t for Andrei leaning over from the other side of Sebastian to murmur to him in a quiet voice, “You like that, Teukka?”

“Fuck,” is all Teuvo says, because at the exact moment he goes to speak Sebastian’s hand rubs right beside what’s become a full-blown hard-on pressing against the front of his pants and he bites the corner of his lip hard trying not to groan. “What the fuck are you doing?” He says, meaning to sound confused and frustrated but his voice comes out weak and unconvincing, faltering as he speaks. 

It kills him when Sebastian just raises a finger to his lip again and shushes him. Andrei smiles a too-sweet smile from Sebastian’s other side. Sebastian’s hand moves up his leg and rests on the side of his hip, fingers slipping underneath the hem of his hoodie and floating over the skin of his belly. The dull rumble of action movie explosions play in the background as Sebastian’s fingers move soft and swift over the elastic waistband of his sweatpants, one finger dipping under the waistband and trailing across his hip as Teuvo stifles a surprised gasp. 

Teuvo involuntarily bites his lip again as he shoots a glance about the theatre to make sure nobody is watching and when he realizes that they’re alone spare a couple sitting in the very front of the theatre, he tilts his head and looks up at Sebastian, eyes flickering as he whispers, “You’re just going to tease me?”

“Oh, no,” Sebastian articulates his words with the slipping of another finger underneath Teuvo’s pants waist, “Unless that’s all you want.”

“No,” Teuvo answers quickly, breath shaky. “No, I--”

“That’s what I thought.” 

Sebastian stuns him to silence as he slips his hand fully underneath his waistband and into his pants, palming softly over Teuvo’s erection with a wicked grin on his lips, one that reminds Teuvo of the look he gets when he  _ knows  _ he’s about to win at something, like he’s about to seal the deal. Sebastian’s fingers curl too slowly around the shaft, and Teuvo swallows thickly, eyes trained on Sebastian’s lips. 

Just as he’s resolved to lean up and kiss him, hard, Sebastian turns his head away and crashes into Andrei, hard, the two of them kissing in a way that normally would disgust Teuvo a little but in this moment makes him even harder, makes him let out a low groan. 

The puckering sound of the end of a kiss fills the quiet air around Sebastian and Andrei when they break apart at last. Sebastian’s hand slips away momentarily-- and Teuvo worries for a second that this is all he’s going to get now, a fucking boner in a movie theatre and a dull throbbing in his belly. 

But Sebastian lifts the palm of his hand to his lips, which shine with the recently-kissed shimmer of saliva and softness, and wets his hand before immediately diving back in, this time slipping his hand up and down and all Teuvo can think of is the fact it’s Andrei’s spit there too and he shivers, eyes rolling shut. 

A pleased hum leaves Andrei’s lips as he watches Teuvo’s knuckles turn white from gripping the edge of the armrests. Sebastian moves faster now, and Teuvo’s mind is awash with images of Andrei’s lips on Sebastian’s neck, images that flood back from the morning of Sebastian’s hips against Andrei’s ass, of fingers interlaced on white sheets in the early white sunlight of the morning, of Sebastian’s tan skin against white pillowcases and walls and everything is white and hot and warm when Teuvo sucks in a breath through his teeth and then bites down on his lip, hard. 

“Fuck, Sepe,” Teuvo breathes. Sebastian’s grin grows even wilder. His hand moves faster. Teuvo clenches his teeth. Sebastian moves towards him, leans his head in, and his lips and teeth graze the muscles on the side of his neck lightly before he presses in and kisses his neck hard, and Teuvo is certain that will leave a mark, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care because his thighs are clenching now and he knows that he’s close. “I’m--” He tries to say, but can’t finish. 

“Yeah?” He thinks he hears Sebastian whisper, breath like a breeze over the skin of his wet-with-saliva neck, but his mind blanks completely. His eyes slam shut, his hips thrust involuntarily upwards and he comes into Sebastian’s hand, warm and wet and so fucking good. 

Sebastian pulls back from his neck and admires the spot of skin he’s been kissing at, which tells Teuvo that there’s  _ got _ to be a mark there.

All at once, Teuvo realizes what’s just happened. His neck almost aches where Sebastian’s lips and teeth have been, and he looks quickly at Andrei, who watches him with quiet, hungry eyes. 

Teuvo’s cheeks are flushed pink. His breath comes in soft pants. 

Andrei smiles at Sebastian, who is already fishing for napkins from his stack on the floor, wiping his hands and then moving in to help clean Teuvo up the best that he can.

No words are spoken. Teuvo is too afraid to say anything; he fears he will break the spell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also got to give big luv to [lulucanwrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lulucanwrite/) again. also feel like i need to shoutout richard siken's [dirty valentine](https://genius.com/Richard-siken-dirty-valentine-annotated) because for some reason it was really what spurred me to write this chapter. it's been forever since i updated and i'm sorry about that but i'm really glad to be back into the swing of things so here we goooo again


	6. Chapter 6

They stumble out of the theater and into the next week without ever talking about it.

This would be fine if nothing seemed to change, but when the team travels and they get off their bus at the hotel, Sebastian and Andrei are handed a set of matching room keys and Teuvo is greeted by Warren Foegele’s cartoonish smile. 

“I thought you Finns were joined at the hip,” Warren says lightheartedly, but upon seeing Teuvo’s responding grimace, he furrows his brows. “Are you guys not good or something?”

“I don’t know,” Teuvo says, trying to throw up a lighthearted shrug. 

Teuvo can tell that Warren sees right through it and knows better than to press. Instead, he follows Teuvo up the stairs, throws his stuff down on the bed closest to the window, and immediately whips out his phone.

“Who are you texting?” Teuvo asks, and realizes it comes out more defensive than he meant when he hears the words aloud. 

“Dougie, duh,” Warren rolls his eyes, “He said he wanted to come over and play video games or something, and you should hang. We never hang.” 

Teuvo thins his lips, pondering Warren’s proposition with cautious optimism. On the one hand, he’s been handed the opportunity to get Andrei and Sebastian off the mind on a silver platter. On the other hand, he knows that he will be completely incapable of getting Andrei and Sebastian off his mind regardless of the situation he lands himself in. But that is just about enough to convince himself that he should stay in, so he flops down on the bed and mutters a “sure.”

Warren literally jumps up from his spot and grins like a kid who’s just been promised a trip to McDonald’s and then instantly curbs his enthusiasm by straightening out, brushing his hands on his thighs. “Fuck yeah, I’m telling him to come over now--”

He’s cut off by a knock on the door, which neither Teuvo nor Warren are given an opportunity to respond to because Dougie Hamilton floats in carelessly, the picture of ease and comfortable joy. 

“What’s up, Turbo?” he says as he passes him and sits down on Warren’s chosen hotel bed. Warren is busy pulling his Xbox from his packed bag and fiddling with the television to connect it, so Teuvo finds himself uncomfortably locked in to making small talk with Dougie.

“Nothing,” he says, furrowing his brow, casting a glance around the room like that will give him something to talk about. He knows the question is coming before Dougie even asks it, and frankly, he doesn’t want to talk about it. 

Teuvo is inhaling to speak when it comes: “Are you okay?”

It’s honestly not the question he’s expecting. He’s expecting Dougie to press, pry about why his typical routine of rooming with Sebastian has been interrupted, what’s going on with them. He breathes a sigh of relief. “I’m okay.”

“I know how it feels when your best friend starts dating somebody.”  
  
Dougie stuns him. Up until now, he’d thought that Andrei and Sebastian weren’t telling anybody, that it was private. Flashes of frustration surge through his head because they never tell him fucking _anything_ , and he’s lost trying to grasp at the straws of the two of them, trying to figure out what the hell is going on every other minute. This all reads on his face, he’s sure, but he breathes a short breath through his nostrils and says, “It’s not my business what Svech and Fishy do.” 

“Wow,” Warren says, turning back to face the two of them, eyebrows lifted, eyes wide. “Sounds like it.”

“Come on,” Dougie frowns at Warren. “Don’t push him.”

“No, actually,” Teuvo says, “They are the two most confusing people ever. I don’t know what their problem is.” Each word comes out vitriolic, seething with an anger that he wasn’t even aware was in his body. “It’s none of my business.”

“Damn. If we didn’t have a morning skate, I would say you needed a drink.” 

Teuvo blows air out of his mouth and nods at Dougie. “I know.”

“Well, video games are close enough,” says Dougie, “You’ll get your mind off of whatever.”

Warren hands him one of two controllers as the console powers on, and before he knows it, hours fly by passing controllers back and forth in a rotation between the three of them, laughing and mashing on the buttons and joysticks with ease and joy. 

The sun sets. It gets dark without them realizing enough to turn the lights on until finally, Warren breaks the spell of games and distraction.

“I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it,” Warren starts.

Dougie shakes his head and gives him a shove in the shoulder. “Dude.” 

“But for real!” Warren ignores Dougie outright, standing up from the edge of the bed where they’re sat and moving to look at Teuvo directly. “I wanna know what their deal is, for real.”

“You tell me, and we’ll both know,” Teuvo groans, hoping this will be enough to dismiss Warren’s prying. The memory of a dark movie theatre and the rolling sounds of an action movie accompanying the rocking of hips circle around him. It’s enough to make him feel dizzy. He figures that right now, Sebastian and Andrei are off in their own room, curled up against each other, breathing life into a relationship fueled by whatever rush it is they got from messing with him and he frowns and continues, “Actually, you know what.”

“Yes,” Warren pumps his fist and throws his body down on the bed, laying on his side and propping his head up with a flicked wrist like he’s at a slumber party, ready for his best friend to spill every bean imaginable. “Tell me, tell me.”

“Sebastian and I have been a thing, off and on, like, as long as we’ve known each other.” The words leave his mouth without thought. For information he’s never told anybody, and silently sworn that he wouldn’t tell without Sebastian’s permission, he is brashly uncaring about any ramifications that might befall him. “Like, remember when we were in Philly, and some bum laid that hit on him and we all thought he was hurt?” Dougie and Warren both nod in unison, which Teuvo makes a note to revisit later because that’s fucking weird, but whatever. “That night, back in our room, we hooked up.”

“Woah, like--” Warren starts, eyes wide.

“No, we just made out. But for a long time, and then fell asleep together. It was weird, I don’t know.”

“It was weird? Or it got weird after?” Dougie asks. 

“Honestly, both,” Teuvo says, and his words are hot and spilling from his mouth before he can even think. “Because I’m, like, in love with Svech, too.”

Warren’s mouth falls open, and he and Dougie shoot glances at each other, unsure of what to say. They’re lucky, really, because Teuvo continues to drop bombs instead of waiting for their words.

“And I have been, since the first time I saw him.”

“Woah.” Warren blinks slowly, processing. “Okay, so you’re in love with your best friend and your best friend’s boyfriend.” This comes out so genuine, so without judgement that Teuvo can’t help but sink into the bed a little more, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hand and sighing.

“When you put it like that, it sounds so horrible.” He groans, and picks up his phone to check and see if anybody’s texted him. Or, more realistically, if one of them has texted him. Spoiler alert: they haven’t. 

Dougie grabs the phone from Teuvo, and puts it on the table next to where he’s sitting, just out of Teuvo’s reach, giving him a knowing look. Teuvo relents, because he’s right to take it from him. There’s no point in checking his phone now.

“Maybe horrible,” Warren’s voice cuts through the air, “Maybe a threesome.”

He flushes immediately. His entire body feels like it’s surging with heat, and the feeling of Andrei’s eyes on him while Sebastian’s lips move over him slams into his chest, leaving him breathless. It’s Teuvo’s reaction to that comment that makes Dougie say, “Dude, for real?”

“I didn’t say anything!” Teuvo starts, but his voice is too defensive, and both of them see right through it.

“Dude, I don’t know what happened, and I don’t need to know, but you gotta talk to them.” 

The image of the three of them that day is only the first picture of frustration; it goes deeper than that. What can he do? Tell Sebastian that he’s been in love with his boyfriend since before Sebastian even knew him? It feels so completely impossible that talking to them is off the table.

But Warren is nodding in agreement. “He’s right. You know how it is, communication and all that.”

“Please, you wouldn’t know communication if someone hit you with it,” Dougie quips in response, and swats at the side of his head. “Every single time he’s ever had an issue with his girl, I’m always the one telling him that he has to talk to her about his _feelings_.”

“What can I say? Feelings suck,” Warren shrugs. 

“Feelings suck,” Teuvo echoes.

\--

Teuvo finds that he’s able to avoid both Sebastian and Andrei with relatively little effort. He ignores their texts asking about breakfast together, and it isn’t until they meet for their morning skate and the three of them are thrown on a line together that they even come within a few feet of each other. 

They are running drills against different pairings of defensemen, cycling out so each line and pair has a chance to run against each other. The first rush forward is simple; Andrei passes to Sebastian, Sebastian bats it in, goal. The second rush, Teuvo fumbles the puck but manages to get it to Sebastian, who has no problem slipping it past TVR and past Mrazek and into the back of the net. But around their third rush, things start to fall apart. 

Andrei calls for the puck when he manages to blow past Slavin, but Teuvo is too busy noticing how Sebastian races forward to meet him, setting up a two-on-one, something Teuvo himself and Sebastian have done many a time, and misses his moment to send a pass to Andrei before Pesce has managed to swipe the puck right off his tape and send it back the other direction. Teuvo lets out a groan, and hurries back into place, waiting to run again.

The last rush starts with a glimmer of hope. Sebastian manages to push forward and drive to the front of the net while Teuvo and Andrei keep the defensemen busy, and Teuvo is barrelling full speed ahead when he hears Andrei’s stick tapping against the ice, calling for the pass. He takes a glance forward, where he knows Sebastian is waiting, and then back at Andrei, who smiles at Teuvo, and Teuvo just blinks, stops pumping his legs and slows down a bit. He hasn’t seen Andrei smile like that-- he knows that he must have something up his sleeve, but he’s slowed down way too much, and he’s not thinking at all about keeping the puck away from--who is even on him, Faulk? Yeah, Faulk--and he’s actually distracted, thinking about clouds of breath in the frozen winter air and a smile so big he can see it from far away and a little wave from a lake and the way his stomach twists looking at Andrei. He drops a glance down at the puck as he stickhandles, trying to keep Faulk off of him, but it’s way too late. As soon as he looks back up, ready to pass to Andrei, he’s slammed against the boards, hard.

“Fuck!” Sebastian yells, and Teuvo shakes his head violently in response, angry at himself for screwing up yet another golden opportunity.

“Sorry,” is Justin’s apology. “You looked down,” is his justification. Teuvo can’t even be mad. He’s right.

From across the rink, Brind’Amour hollers something at him about paying attention, or seeming out of it, or something like that. Teuvo doesn’t really listen. Instead, he’s just relieved as he’s moved down a line. Demoted, really. Not that he gives a damn; it gets him away from them.

He floats through the rest of the day with Dougie’s advice bouncing around in his mind. Each time the events of the morning skate play out in his mind, he hears Dougie speaking: _you gotta talk to them._

Maybe he’s right, but he’s not sure where to even start. Does it start at a morning skate, or in a movie theater? On a couch in an apartment with one of them asleep in the other room? Or does it start all the way back at that resort? 

Teuvo is underwater. And when he sees Andrei towelling off after his post-morning-skate-locker-room-shower, he can’t breathe. Where to start? How is that even a question when he’s out in the middle of the water now, sinking and drowning, and can’t even tread water?

Andrei’s wet hair flops over his forehead when he sits down, hard, next to Teuvo. “Something wrong?” He asks.

It’s such a stupid question. Is anything even right? Teuvo musters up, “Why are you asking me that?”

“Because,” he says simply, “You’re the best. And this morning, on the ice? You weren’t. So something is wrong.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” he asks, not looking at him, tucking his laces into the boot of the skate because he doesn’t want to look at him. Can’t look at him.

“Not important,” is Andrei’s reply. Then, more eagerly, “You can talk to me.” 

He wants to be mad, but his deep brown eyes are so tender that Teuvo’s heart sinks down through his chest and into his stomach. If anybody was paying attention, if somebody saw how Teuvo looked at Andrei, they’d see every ounce of longing, of wondering where and who he was, the heartache of every day that went by with Teuvo questioning if that moment was even real. And now, when he looks at him, when Andrei places a hand gently on his thigh, rough but young fingers gracing over the hairs of his upper leg, thumb running over the outline of his quad, Teuvo finds himself questioning not whether or not he exists, but whether or not it meant anything to him.

_(Maybe, he thinks, it didn’t mean anything. But when Sebastian introduced them, there was no “we’ve met before” or “you look familiar.” It was formalities and a handshake that felt like dying. That’s not how you greet somebody that you don’t share a secret with. He really believes this.)_

The words tug at his lips, unspoken. He draws in a breath to speak, and then closes his lips tightly shut again. Andrei moves his hand away. Teuvo misses its warmth. The silence between them begs Teuvo’s answer to Andrei’s unspoken question: _what’s wrong?_

He wants to blurt it out so badly, like he’s imagined a thousand times before, demanding to know if he remembers. The rest of the locker room has completely faded away. All he can see is Andrei, Andrei, Andrei looking at him in silent expectation. 

But he won’t say it. Because even though they feel alone, he knows they aren’t. He won’t say it. Not with Sebastian around the corner, or with Wally and TVR tossing a wadded up ball of used tape back and forth, or with Brind’Amour standing in the corner, chatting in hushed tones with Willy about something or the other.

Then there was Sebastian, emerging from the showers with his hair wet and finger-combed back and out of his face. He nods at Andrei, and then at Teuvo, recognizing their conversation from afar. 

It’s enough to push the words, “Don’t worry. I’m fine,” out of Teuvo’s lips, and for him to stand, shove his things halfheartedly into his bag, and leave the room.

\--

It’s a good game. It starts out explosively, and the energy keeps going. Teuvo can think of times that the away team has rocked the crowd at PNC, sending them out of their seats early, and remembers how it feels to be on the other side of the glass. But tonight, being the away team that sends the fans home early is like a drug. Watching the clock wind down and still be ahead and seeing the seats empty themselves feels like a victory on a whole other level. Winning at home is one thing, but winning away? It’s harder. It’s earned.

He spends so much of the game watching Sebastian, who is electric even when he isn’t scoring or even on the ice at all. Then, in the third period, it comes. A pass from Andrei and Sebastian roofs the puck backhand into the corner of the net; the goalie doesn’t even stand a chance. The red light twirls, and the ref signals a goal. The two of them throw themselves against each other, slamming against the glass, mouths wide in celebration, before the unit of five glide over for a quick fly-by of fistbumps from the bench. 

Andrei is grinning from ear-to-ear, and he slows for a moment as he is sliding past Teuvo to say, “Next is your goal,” as he taps Teuvo’s gloved fist with his own. Teuvo can’t help but smile at that. From behind Andrei, Sebastian smiles a half-crooked, toothy smile at him. 

Teuvo comes completely undone. Everything surges and bubbles at the surface as he finds himself in the space between the two of them, but it isn’t anger or confusion that floods him. He is reminded suddenly of how it felt to be caught between Sebastian and Andrei in the quiet of the dark of an empty theater, remembering how it felt to just be the three of them. Remembering that maybe the three of them is not such a bad thing to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want to make a comment ab this being four months later but genuinely everything i do has months in between it so i'm just embracing that now lmao
> 
> ty lulucanwrite


End file.
